


Gadfly

by cousinrayray, Hay_Bails (Prehensilizing)



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: C137cest, Incest, M/M, Morty has no idea what he's doing, spaceship kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 02:24:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12596032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cousinrayray/pseuds/cousinrayray, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prehensilizing/pseuds/Hay_Bails
Summary: Falling in love is very real, but I used to shake my head when people talked about soul mates.(Morty wants to give Rick a blowjob.)





	Gadfly

Rick Sanchez had never agreed to be born.

It was horribly clichéd, and he hated himself the instant the thought pinballed through his rapid-firing brain. But it was true. It was a personal truth, one he had never shared with anyone. This made it, to his mind, an ultra-truth. Truer than truth.

What was the point of living, if all that existed at the end was nothing? And Rick was utterly convinced of the nothing. Afterlife was for people who needed to take comfort in being told their most horrible actions were forgivable. If nothing else, Rick took responsibility for his horrible actions. He never believed that he wasn't horrible.

He realized, bemusedly, that these nostalgic theories only seemed to occur to him in the air. The sun bounced asymmetrically off the scratched aluminum of his ramshackle spaceship. It glinted along the windshield and illuminated the face of his peacefully sleeping grandson, curled up in the passenger seat next to him. Rick flicked the autopilot on with a practiced finger and uncorked his flask. He took a long draught, eyes half-lidded as he observed Morty. The teen's shoulders rose and fell lightly with each breath.

Rick's thick lab coat felt suddenly too warm in the unfiltered sunlight. He capped his flask and shrugged off the offending garment, tossing it haphazardly onto the headrest of his seat. He kicked his feet onto the steering wheel and weaved his fingers together behind his head.

"Hm..." Morty sighed, blinking himself awake. "R-Rick, um... how fast does your ship go?" he mumbled.

Rick raised a luxurious brow. "Am I driving too slow for you, buddy?"

"No, just, just curious." The boy yawned and stretched. "Airplanes go like a million miles an hour, and they take hours to get anywhere."

Sleep thoughts. Rick smirked. "Rounding up into the millions is for little bit- little babies," he proclaimed. "Seven-forty-sevens only reach like, six hundred. This thing," he paused, belching extravagantly, "this junkheap does at least twelve hundred in Earth's atmosphere."

"Thought so," Morty replied sagely, as if he had known this all along. "It always feels like we get home so fast."

Rick scoffed. "What, you wanted a s-scenic drive or something?"

"No. Well. Sort of. I, uh," Morty yawned. "I like flying. With you." He rubbed his eyes sleepily.

Rick's gaze flicked over the boy's face. A wayward emotion flitted through his chest. He beat it down.

"Jesus Morty. I take you to the best theme park in the multiverse and you're only interested in the spaceship? Could've saved me an assload of money there, kiddo."

Morty flushed. "No, no, that's not what I meant. The park was great! But I'm just... I mean... it's nice. Hanging out. With you." He fidgeted in his seat.

There was that emotion again. Rick prodded at it experimentally.

"I hope you don't use these lines on Jessica."

Morty blushed furiously. "You're, you're twisting my words, Rick."

The old man laughed callously.

"Oh, Jessica," he mocked in a high-pitched voice. "I just want to spend time with you. I just like being with you." He cackled.

"Forget I said anything," Morty mumbled, now fully awake and fully embarrassed. The sun was starting to creep down over the horizon somewhere to their left, accentuating the curvature of the earth.

"Hey," Rick said, forcing himself back to seriousness. "I, uh, I like flying out here with you too, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Who's reading into words now?" he bit back a little too harshly. He regretted it the instant it was out of his mouth. "I mean it though," he added hastily. "Um, I like spending time with you too, kiddo."

He raised his hand to pat Morty's shoulder, brought it down on Morty's forearm instead. That was correct, wasn't it? Grandfather and grandson, out on an adventure. Perfectly innocent. Good. Wholesome, even. Rick blushed without quite realizing why. He hid his face in his flask.

Morty was grinning. God, Rick loved it when the kid smiled like that. It made his whole day. It was worth any amount of bullshittery and frolicking, if an adventure ended with Morty smiling like that. He smiled back, momentarily unselfconscious.

Without stopping to think about it, Rick allowed his hand to wander down Morty's forearm. He squeezed his fingers gently.

Then, realizing what he was doing, he inhaled sharply.

"Uh," Morty said.

Rick's hand was back on the steering wheel quicker than a snake. His grandson looked confused.

"We're only a few minutes away," Rick babbled, choosing not to acknowledge the gravity of what he had just done. What he had just allowed to happen. Then his eyes narrowed because, hadn't he been thinking only a few minutes ago how ethical he was for taking responsibility for his actions? What a terrible old man he was. "You need to go to bed soon. You have school tomorrow, r-right?"

Morty looked suspicious. "You've never cared whether I have school or not. Also I just woke up."

"That was a power nap, M-Morty. You, uh, you need real sleep."

"Not... really?"

"And school is important."

"But-"

"No buts! Only the best education for my, my grandson."

"Rick..."

"I said no buts!" Rick snarled.

Morty stared at his grandpa for a long time. He thought hard. Then, without another word, he placed his hand on the steering wheel beside his grandfather's.

"Morty, what are you-"

Morty hooked his forefinger around Rick's pinkie. The old man stared at him in surprise.

"The ship's on autopilot," Morty observed wearily. "You don't have to pretend you're driving."

Rick went a violent shade of crimson. Morty gently lifted his hand from the steering wheel, interlocking their fingers a little clumsily. His hand was sweaty, Rick noticed. Then, because the thoughts weren't coming as clearly or as quickly as they usually did, he noticed that he was holding hands. With his grandson.

"Uh," Rick said to no one in particular. There was only one person who could stun Rick Sanchez into silence.

Morty smiled, not as brilliantly as he had earlier, but a tiny little lopsided thing with one side of his mouth turned up at the corner. Rick knew that smile. That was the smile Morty smiled when he thought something was cute.

This was straying into dangerous territory.

"Whoa there, buckaroo," he said in what he hoped was a gentle tone. This couldn't continue. "Save some for the ranch."

"It's o-okay Rick," the kid said, ignoring his good advice like always. Morty's fingers, Rick noticed, were surprisingly supple. Then, noticing that he had noticed, or perhaps just because he was young and stupid, Morty began circling his thumb on Rick's cool skin. The sensation was, Rick had to admit, not an unpleasant one. Perhaps a few more seconds wouldn't hurt.

He closed his eyes without intending to. Morty's hand was warm and his thumb was soothing. Then Rick felt Morty come up closer, felt him lean into Rick's face, and Rick knew what was likely to happen but he was frozen with eyes still shut.

He had expected it on the cheek, he supposed, which was bad enough, but it was a brief, and very un-chaste kiss on the mouth. He jerked and his eyes flew open. His grandson was crouched beside him, dizzyingly close.

“Morty…” he started, then realized he had no idea what to say. He had to say something, surely. “That’s, that's not a good idea,” he began to stutter in lieu of anything intelligent.

Morty, bold and stupid, cut him off by putting his small hands around his jaw and kissing him again.

Rick's arm came up and it should have pulled Morty away but instead it paused on the boy's shoulder. Morty tasted sweet, like soda, and Rick couldn't help his small shudder and groan. God, he was disgusting.

Alarmed, he broke off and pushed Morty back. He muttered urgently, “Morty, for real, what- what the hell are you doing?” He scrutinized the now-blushing teen before him.

“I, um, s-something I’ve wanted to for a while. Is, is that ok?” Morty answered, looking nervous.

Part of Rick wanted to snap out from the absurdity of it. Of course it wasn't ok. Also holy shit, what did Morty even think of him? But, well...

“It's, it's pretty fucked up Morty, I f-figure you sorta realize that.” He was a terrible old pervert. “You sure you really wanna go there?” He was beyond damned for giving him the option.

Morty gave a little laugh as he rubbed his neck and said, “Well, Rick, it would probably be like, the- only the third strangest thing we’ve ever done, you know, if, if you think about it. I’d say, let's just, let's just roll with it.”

Rick raised his eyebrow, striving for unimpressed, really just a bit speechless. But when Morty came forward and kissed him again he felt himself kiss back, his tongue and teeth tugging at Morty's lip while Morty’s hands tugged into his hair.

Then, in a move that would have floored Rick with its boldness if he wasn't filled with a buzzing haze right now, Morty climbed into his lap and gave a small, experimental grind into him. He continued to kiss Rick, moaning softly into his mouth.

The old man felt his arousal sharpen, blunt and insensitive. His hands found their way to small of Morty's back and toyed with the edge of his shirt.

After a brief intake of breath, he slowly slid his hand up under Morty’s shirt. Morty’s mouth opened with a groan that turned into grin as he arched his back.

It was a grin that Rick recognized in the brief moments it existed before Morty’s lips locked back onto his. It was the same happy, almost jubilant one he saw after an exceptional day out, like today. The one that told Rick when he had done well.

That nameless emotion lurching almost unpleasantly, Rick threw himself back into the kiss with a moan, his hand tracing a line down Morty’s vertebra. Morty’s resulting squirm on his lap sent a throb through him, and he jerked unthinkingly forward, kissing down Morty's neck.

He wasn't sure where this was going. And he couldn't help but feel uneasy despite the low pleasure pooling through him, beginning to burn him up as he moved his hands in circles on Morty's skin, made noises into his mouth. But when Morty started fumbling for Rick's belt, Rick got his answer for where it shouldn't go.

“M-Morty, wait. Wait a second there,” he said as he broke, breathing harder than he should. “What’s, what's your agenda here? What are you looking for?” He could feel himself want to blush at the seeming hesitancy of the question, but he ignored it. This was important.

“Uh, well, whatever you want to do, I'm, I’m down for anything, Rick,” the kid replied, flushed. Rick tried not to look at his lips.

“Yeah, o-ok tiger, that's great but, I-I’m thinkin’ this has been plenty for tonight.” And it was. As laughable as it may have been, Rick found he was the one not quite ready to progress further. He cursed himself for sounding so awkward but for fuck’s sake how else was he supposed to handle this.

“So… wait. So you wanna d-do this again, some other night, then?” Morty asked with wide eyes. But there was a hint of a smile at his lips. Rick thought it might even have been a smirk.

He cursed himself for his slip. He cursed Morty for being a little shit. And he cursed the universe for all of it. He had never asked to be born, after all. But that didn't change the fact that he was who he was, where he was.

Rick gave a long-suffering sigh, but it trailed into a smile that he hid with a scrub of his hand as he mumbled,

“Sure, whatever.”

* * *

 

One week passed.

"What do you want?" Rick growled. He seemed angry.

Morty had made him wait.

"I want," Morty said, barely breathing and enunciating each word with the utmost care, "to suck your dick."

Each consonant was carefully rounded, even in his low whisper - he couldn't bear the thought of repeating himself. His face was maroon. He was positively convinced Rick could hear his thundering heartbeat from across the tiny bedroom. The enclosed space, if anything, caused it to ring louder in his own ears. But he stood firm, holding his ground. He watched the old man carefully, awaiting some - any - response.

"Wow," Rick choked, stunned. "Uh."

Morty looked at the ceiling. Oh god, he had fucked up. He had fucked up badly. How could he even have begun to consider the possibility-

Rick cleared his throat. He patted the bed next to him."Uh, come sit down, kiddo."

Morty hung his head. Wordless and shamed, he obediently crossed the room on shaking legs. He sat.

"I-I-I'm so-"

"Hey, no apologies," Rick reassured him quickly. He fidgeted uncomfortably, gesturing to himself. "I, uh, I just can't stand up."

"Oh..."

Oh.

Morty, if anything, blushed an even deeper shade. Rick wouldn't meet his eyes.

"God damn, kid," he muttered. "You can't spring that shit on an old man. I'm like sixty. I could have died."

Despite himself, Morty grinned. Rick hadn’t had to wait for long. It had only been a week or so. But the awkward, drawn-out silence felt even longer when weighed against the events that had taken place in Rick’s ship only a few short days prior.

“Where’d you even learn to talk like that?” Rick mumbled, “Always, always a mystery, Morty.” He rubbed his face, which looked a bit pink when his hands lowered. “We can, uh, do that. We can do whatever you like. Just, uh…” he hesitated, and he looked at his grandson, his eyes looked almost pleading, “Y-You know you don't have to do this, right? Like, this isn't to gain favor, or, or some other fucked up shit?”

Morty laughed gently, feeling emboldened, as he always did, by the signs that Rick cared.

“No, Rick, I just, I would really,” he could feel his blush burning all the way to his ears now, but fuck it, he had come this far, “really like to.”

And those seemed to be the magic words for Rick, who, after a moment’s intense stare, closed the gap between them and seized Morty's mouth with his own, muttering, “You're, you're really going to drive me crazy, one day, kid,” in between breaths.

Morty could have laughed again, because he was pretty certain they were both crazy already, but now didn't seem like the time to bring that up. Rick's mouth on his was burning hot, and he flicked his tongue against Morty’s, making him gasp and shiver.

He began kissing down the boy’s neck, pausing at the presence of his yellow shirt. His old, bony hands came to grab its bottom edges, and he ceased his kissing to look at Morty and mutter uncertainly, “Can I touch you? Is, uh, is that ok?”

Morty nodded eagerly, feeling like a bobble head. That was more than ok, that would be fucking amazing.

Rick tugged his shirt up over his head with surprising speed, then paused for a moment, staring at Morty in a way that had Morty’s blush creeping back in. He wasn't exactly a looker, underdeveloped and scrawny.

But Rick's hand came up slowly, to almost reverently trail a thumb along Morty’s collarbone. He leaned in to kiss him again, more softly than before, while his other hand crept around Morty's back, pulling him closer.

It felt so unexpectedly tender, and it made Morty’s chest ache. His hand came up, wavering, to thread into Rick’s hair, and his eyes widened at the shivering groan Rick gave when he ran his fingers through it, snagging lightly on a few of its chaotic tangles.

“You, uh, have a nice body. To touch,” Rick mumbled, seemingly not realizing what he was saying, as he continued his practiced ministrations upon the teen’s warm skin. Morty laughed breathlessly at the strange compliment. It wasn’t a normal thing to say, given the circumstances, but what about Rick was normal, really?

He needed to get a move on quickly, he realized, gasping and arching as Rick sucked pulsingly on Morty's neck, a hand idly tracing around his nipple. He could hear quiet little moans with almost every press, and he thought they were his own, but he suddenly realized they were Rick's, and he whined with the surge of arousal that shot through him. Every touch from Rick made his breath speed up, make his dick pulse, and if this kept up he'd come in his pants before he even got to do anything, which would be embarrassing beyond words.

So he pulled back, smiling reassuringly at a Rick who seemed almost defenseless, dazed. He shifted down off the bed and pushed at Rick's leg, settling down on his knees between them.

Morty took a deep breath, and reached up with shaking hands to undo his grandfather's belt. At the first touch of his hands, he heard an intake of breath from Rick. He didn't dare look up though, worried he would lose his nerve.

He hooked his fingers around Rick's pants and tugged downwards, Rick lifting his hips to help, and before he could even really process that he was actually doing this, this was really happening, he was staring his grandfather's erection in the face.

For a few seconds he could do nothing but look. It was… large, far bigger than he had imagined, and for a split second it made him wonder if he'd ever have the courage to let Rick see him naked, after this.

As Morty stared at it with wide eyes, it twitched, and a small, strangled gasp emerged from his mouth. Then his attention was broken by the sound of Rick chuckling.

“You,” he laughed, “You hanging in there, kiddo?”

Morty began to stammer, feeling his face heat. Oh God, he was such a dork. Rick was laughing at him already, and he hadn't even started yet.

But when he looked up at Rick his expression wasn't mocking or smirking. His smile was small, lopsided, but looked genuine. It changed his whole face, and it made Morty smile back a touch goofily and reply, “Yeah, Rick. You know, you- you look great like this.”

It was only after he said it and Rick started laughing again that he realized what it sounded like. But he found he didn't mind, not when Rick smiled like that.

“Here,” his grandfather said, gently grasping his hand and guiding it to his member. “Start there, see what happens.”

For the first few moments, Morty was shocked into stillness, marveling at the dick which he held now, in his hand. Rick’s dick. Holy shit. Rick stared down at him impassively, the very picture of self-control.

Then Morty experimentally moved his thumb, and oh, if that wasn’t the most beautiful face he had ever seen Rick make. Emboldened, Morty gave a gentle tug.

“Shit.” Rick cursed as elegantly as the brushstroke of any classical painter, and that’s when Morty knew. Rick was all his.

Morty smirked, stroking just the tiniest bit faster. His palm cupped the bottom while the fingers of his other hand caressed the top. He had seen violinists in an orchestra once, and he tried to emulate them now, quickening his wrist to a brisk vibrato. A bead of precum smeared across the tip of his pinkie.

Rick wasn’t even attempting self-control at this point, moaning and cursing under Morty’s touch as the boy continued his inexperienced, but enthusiastic, exploration. Suddenly inspired, Morty switched his grip. His right hand now grasped the top of Rick’s dick, while his left came up to cup the old man’s girth in his palm. Rick groaned.

“Fuck, Mort, uh, Morty,” he panted. “You, you gotta slow down, I, uh, shit.”

Morty chuckled. “Too much?”

“It feels fucking amazing. But I, I won’t last long,” he admitted, a tinge of shame coloring his cheeks.

Morty struggled to hide a wide grin. Impulsively, crazily, he whispered, “Come for me.”

Rick had always prided himself on doing what he was told - in bed, at least. He came in warm ribbons all along Morty’s stomach, holding the boy’s shirt up with both hands anchored firmly to his ribs. Morty, overheated himself, wasn’t entirely sure what had even happened until he looked down. He saw his grandfather’s semen dripping lazily along his skin toward his waistline.

Shit.

He had really wanted to give Rick that blowjob.

Rick, whose hands were now hastily detaching themselves from his body. “Stop,” he was saying, and Morty wasn’t really listening. “Yo. Morty. Morty… Morty!” Rick grabbed Morty’s hands. Morty realized he was still unconsciously tugging at the old man’s retreating penis. He blushed.

“Oh geez, uh, sorry,” he hastily offered. He clasped his hands tightly within each other, trying to prevent himself from doing any more damage.

Rick took a long second to breathe. “God damn, kid.”

Morty looked down at the mess on his chest, and prodded it with his finger. Curious, he lifted his hand up and touched it tentatively to his tongue.

Rick groaned loudly, “Jesus, Morty stop. Just stop. Enough. I, I’m just one old fucking geezer, I wanna make it through tonight.”

“Sorry, Rick,” Morty said with an unrepentant smile, “I’ll- I'll try to keep your sensitivity in mind.”

Rick grumbled and cuffed roughly him on the side of the head.

“The cynic has become the converted,” he suddenly recited in low tones, his usual stutter missing, “the sceptic, an ardent zealot.”

Morty grinned and stroked his grandfather’s chest with his hand. Rick’s heart beat a brisk tempo under his fingertips.

He wasn’t sure what it meant exactly, but somehow, it felt like the greatest compliment he had ever received.

**Author's Note:**

> Quote and title borrowed from E.A. Bucchianeri, 'Brushstrokes of a Gadfly.'
> 
> Story co-written with cousinrayray.


End file.
